The Girl in the Cracked Mirror
by GirlWithCrookedGlasses
Summary: Len is an unpopular kid. He has no friends. His mother abuses him, his father is gone. He's lonely. That is, until he finds the mirror, and the girl inside. My first fanfic, R&R, be nice
1. Chapter 1 The Beginning

**Herro people~~ Welcome to my first fanfic~ Uhh... I know the first chapter is short and kinda boring ^^" Sorry bout that, I think it gets better. I think.**

**The story isn't going to have much romance, maybe hints of RinxLen, and it starts out MikuxLen. It's rated T for um... child abuse, mild swearing, alcohol, beating people beating each other up...Uhh yeah, you get the point ^^ Enjoy!  
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**Oh yeah. Almost forgot: I don't own VOCALOID, it's two awesome for me, blah blah blah. There I said it. Happy?

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Chapter One : The Beginning

The boy leaned on the grimy wall of the alleyway, gasping for breath. His heart was pounding. His legs shook. Every breath felt like it was tearing his lungs apart. _Run!_ Screamed his mind. _Further!_ But his legs wouldn't obey. He couldn't run anymore.

Suddenly the boy stiffed up. The sound of running footsteps echoed off the walls. The boy slowly started backing up, corner. His eyes looked like those of a hunted animal, flashing with fear. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to run, but he just couldn't run anymore. And it was too late.

The footsteps paused, then came back, quicker. Closer. The person had seen him surely. But somehow they didn't sound like _that_ person's. These were quicker, lighter, almost like—

"Len!"

The boy turned, surprised at the girl's voice calling his name.

"Hey," she said as she caught up to him. "What are you doing out here?"

Hiding his relief, and calming his rapid breathing, the boy shyly shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his worn-out jeans. "Nothing really," he replied quietly.

He didn't tell her that, just moments before he had been running for his life. Running from the hands of Kaito Shion, the most popular kid ever. The _amazing, hot_ singer, the one everyone loved. The one she, Miku Hatsune, probably loved too.

Feeling a stab of painful jealousy, Len glanced over at her. She smiled sweetly, sticking out a hand for him to take. Feeling awkward and childish, he cautiously took it. He was lucky, and unworthy to have such a popular, nice, beautiful girl as a friend.

She really was beautiful, her constant, cheery smile adding to that charm. Her hair, which was tied into two very long pigtails, was colored bright turquoise. The reason why was a mystery. Her hair just seemed to_ be_ like that, in fact, lots of kids at their school had strangely colored hair. Her eyes, which were dazzling sea green, were currently looking at Len. He turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring at her.

Suddenly she squealed. "OHEMGEE Len! You will _never _believe this! My parents are soooo nice!" She tugged on Len's hand, leading him out of the darkness and onto the bright street Len blinked, surprised by the dazzling sunlight. Unfazed, Miku bounced down the street, attracting a few looks from the few people outside.

That was another thing Len loved about Miku: her personality. She was always cheerfully ignorant, laughing when people were mean to her, brushing of the few insults she got. She didn't give a damn what the world thought of her, even hanging out with losers, nobodies like Len. She was the only onw who ever would. There was no one else like her, probably in the whole world. Or at least Len thought so.

"So yesterday I was feeling kinda sad, 'cause my goldfish died and my mom's like in the hospital or something, I dunno…" she chattered on happily, oblivious to everything around her.

Len just walked quietly beside her, listening to the sound of her voice, enjoying the feeling of the wind on his cheeks and her hand in his. He didn't need to hear her words; just her voice was enough to make him forget. Forget the bruises and cuts covering his body. Forget that his father was gone, and his mother drank herself sick every night. Forget the money he 'owed' Kaito, the money he hadn't brought, the money he didn't even own. She was—

"Len? Len! Helloooo?" Miku waved a hand impatiently in front of his face, making him blink.

"Uhh… What?"

"So what do you think? What color should I get?"

Len stared blankly at her. Before he could try to answer, a car horn honked loudly, right behind him. Len jumped, and a voice called out, "Miku!" He recognized the voice of Luka, a girl in their class. She was sitting in the back seat of a car, waving. Waving at Miku, not Len.

Her long, pink hair was blowing around in the wind. Luka usually wore her hair loose, with a hair band holding it away from her face. Her clothes were exposing, tight, and slutty. That was the reason everyone liked her, because she hardly wore anything at all, and, well, she was _very_ busty. That was all anyone cared about. Len hated her with passion. The only person at school he liked was Miku. Only Miku.

"Want a ride?" Luka called out.

Miku looked questioningly at him. Len averted his eyes.

"No thanks, you go ahead."

He scuffed the toe of his beaten, dirty sneakers against the sidewalk. His heart was beating in his chest, secretly hoping that she would turn down Luka's offer and walk with him.

"You sure?" she asked. "Well okay then. See you… Um tomorrow's Saturday. Guess I'll see you on Monday then!" Quickly, and somewhat awkwardly, she hugged Len, then dashed to the car. Len turned away, blushing bright red.

"What the _hell _were you doing with _him_?" Luka asked Miku as she got in, not even lowering her voice.

Miku laughed. "He's a nice guy," she said, a little quieter, but Len still heard her. "Just….Misunderstood, I guess."

"Maybe…" Luka sounded doubtful. "But still. _Len Kagamine?_ I mean, how low—"

The rest of the sentence was cut off as the car left. Leaving Len in the dust, again.

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**Oh, by the by, pretty much everyone in this story is going to be bitchy at some point. Hehe sorry ^^**

**Now click that button below, please. The one that says review. And have a nice day :)**


	2. Chapter 2 The Mirror

Chapter Two: The Mirror

Len sighed as he meandered in the direction of his home. His feet dragged against the ground. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to face his mother, who had surely been drinking. Again.

She would hit him, screaming, opening the cuts and freshening the bruises. Most of them she'd made herself. "Useless," she would shout, her face bright red and her words slurring slightly. "Why do you even come home? Why do I even let you stay here? Be grateful, _dog_!" She would use anything she could get her hands on to hit with, ropes, sticks, an ice cream scoop, on a bad day she had almost used a knife. Almost.

And when he cried, she called him a wimp, a baby, and hit harder.

When she had finally calmed down, she would run into her own room. Sometimes, Len could hear her sobbing, and it tore him apart. Hurt, almost more than the bruises.

About an hour later, she would take a shower and wash her face, scrubbing away the tears, the stains. Quickly, she would change, and then the doorbell would ring. Len would be hidden in his room, not wanting to hear her laughing falsely, flirting with her newest boyfriend. They would go out to who-knows-where, and spend the night out.

Or sometimes, they would stay home. Those nights were the worst, when Len could hear them in the other room. The moaning, panting—it made him feel sick.

But the worst part was afterwards, when the boyfriend left, and his mom came into his room. On these nights, even though it was late, Len wouldn't get any sleep at all. Instead of hitting him, she would collapse on the ground sobbing.

"I'm sorry!" She'd say. "I love you! I'm sorry!"

But she didn't really mean it, right? She couldn't, after what she had done to him. And the next day, it would be clear, again, that she really didn't.

If his dad was still there, none of this would have happened. But his dad was gone. He just barely remembered the times before his dad had left. The good times. His mom smiling and laughing. Real smiles, real laughs. A smile he hadn't seen since, a laugh he hadn't heard.

He remembered both of them holding him tight, saying to him, "I love you."

And really meaning it.

But one night, his dad had left. Len had been seven years old.

His dad had said he'd be back, and everything would be good. But later, when Len asked his mom, what had happened, she said he was dead, or it was an excuse. An excuse to leave them. At the time, Len hadn't understood. But now he did. His dad wasn't coming back. And his mom would never be the same again. _Ever._

Len sighed, running his hand through his messy blond bangs. He glanced at his watch. 5:36 pm. He needed to be home soon, or he'd be late, and there'd be more stress, more yelling.

His traveling gaze caught on a bright flash in the sunlight. He saw it, the old mirror, standing on a lawn a few houses away from his own.

It had a little white tag attached to it that read, _Free, going to dump. Please take._

Len didn't know why, but he felt compelled to take it. Maybe if he gave it to his mom it would keep him safe from her for a day or two.

Besides, it was a nice mirror. It was maybe 2 feet tall, and one foot wide, the kind that hangs on the wall. The frame was intricately formed wood and some kind of metal, decorated with tiny flowers and animals. Standing out of the top were two wings, one feathery and bird-like and the other like a bat's or dragon's. An angel and devil. For some reason, there was a sheet covering the actual mirror part.

Len picked it up , surprised by how light it was. He made up his mind, and started carrying home, ignoring looks from passersby. He had no trouble bringing it into the house, and up the flight of stairs to their home, nodding hello to the lady who lived below them. They shared their building with her, a single lady who lived in the rooms downstairs. Len sometimes wondered if the shouting, crying and hitting from above bothered her. Maybe she was too scared to mention it.

Using his elbow and shoulder, Len pushed open the door. He was hit by the stink of unwashed clothes, rotting food, and stale alcohol. Almost choking, he entered the dank, dirty hallway, flipping on the light switch as he went. The dim light flickered on, casting a faint glow on the dusty brown carpet.

The dust probably meant nobody was coming tonight, because his mom would have cleaned a little bit.

"HOME!" He called out. No reply. _She's probably asleep, or out drinking,_ he thought bitterly.

"Hello?" He called again as he propped the mirror against the wall, kicked off his shoes, and walked into the kitchen.

The table in the middle was cluttered with trash, unwashed silverware, and, of course, the empty beer bottles that littered the whole apartment. Wrinkling his nose, Len opened the fridge, fished out a soda, and popped it open. On the door was a quickly scribbled note, taped carelessly over an old family photo.

"Out for the day," it said. "Will be back tomorrow. Ask the lady downstairs if you need something."

That was it. No name, no reason, no "lots of love", nothing.

But at least it meant she wasn't home, the whole night, and maybe some of tomorrow, if he was lucky. Somewhat cheered up, Len drained his drink. He ripped the note off, tossed it out, and carried the mirror into his room.

Len surveyed his room, looking for a spot to hang it. The room wasn't the best place ever, but definitely the best in the house. It was fair sized, with two windows and four plain, off-white walls. Across to the door was a shelf with books and all his other stuff, and to the left of the door was his desk. Opposite to the desk was his bed, plain with blue sheets. On the right hand wall was the door to the small closet, with nothing next to it except a picture of him with his parents. His dads face was cut out, like all the other pictures of him in the house. His mom had taken them all, and cut them out the week after he left them.

That's where he put the mirror, after moving the picture to his desk. Then he ripped off the sheet covering it, and studied the mirror up close.

It really was a nice mirror. So beautifully carved…

Why had the people been throwing it out? Was it because of that tiny burn mark in the wood? Or the long scratch running down the middle? That was a pretty bad scratch…

Len reached out to touch it, and froze.

His hand, nearly touching the surface, wasn't being reflected in the mirror.

Then quickly, a reflection appeared. A slight, girly hand. He quickly pulled his hand away, as if burnt. The other hand, in the mirror, faltered, and retreated.

Len gulped. Then slowly, fearfully, he looked from his hand to his face.

Staring back t him was a girl, a girl his age, with shoulder length blond hair the same shade as his.

The girl's eyes met his, and she grinned.


End file.
